


The Awakening

by arrowinthesky (restfulsky5)



Series: Not the Final Act [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actor, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, Drama, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness, Memory Loss, Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restfulsky5/pseuds/arrowinthesky
Summary: The greatest lovers never give up.Leonard McCoy happens to be one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all who are reading and following this series! It means a lot! I hope you enjoy this fourth installment. 
> 
> Junker5 and Diamondblue4 - Thank you so much for your advice and encouragement throughout this writing journey! Hugs!
> 
> I wrote this story a little differently. There are two timelines, so to speak. Present time is normal type and the "flashbacks" are in italics. This part does take place some time after The Decoy. :)

 

“Jim?”

Without looking up, Jim shuffled the deck of cards in his hand.

“There you are,” the woman said, coming closer.

He stilled.

That voice. Feminine. Kind. It comforted him. Like chicken soup on a cold, winter’s day. Or a blanket and book he liked to read, on a sad day.

He wasn’t quite sure what kind of day today was. Sad didn't fit. Neither did cold.

“I should’ve looked here first, to find you. This must be your favorite place.” The woman hesitated by the table. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Jim.”

He set the cards on the table before him and stared up at her. She came here, every day. Except she hadn’t been here _today_. At least, not yet. That must be why she said she was late.

It came to him, finally, as she waited for him to speak. Of course he knew her. He wondered what was wrong with him that he couldn’t remember that she was his own mother. People don’t just forget their mothers, do they? Did he ask every day?

He hoped not. He loved her. He had to remember.

“Mom,” he whispered.

She broke into a smile, one that erased the worry lines on her face. “That’s right, sweetie.”

“Sit?’

“Don’t mind if I do. Thank you. “ She pulled out a chair across from him, slipping gracefully into her seat.

He wanted her to move closer, because she smelled nice, like marshmallows, and hugged him, tenderly, but he didn’t know how to ask. He was learning a little more every day, he was told.

Learning was hard. There were rules. Lots of them. He didn’t want to be rude, and then scare her away.

He glanced down at her hands, clenched in front of her, on the table. The day hadn’t felt right. Maybe this had been why. He’d missed her.

“Mom,” he repeated. They did this. Sit here. Often. And they usually held hands.

He wanted to, again, and slid his right hand forward on the smooth table, cautiously, like Gentle Man prompted him to move after a long day after...after…after what?

“Yes, Jim?” She took his hand, squeezing it gently.

He wrinkled his nose. “What...do I do?”

Her eyes softened, making him feel like he did when he drank a glass of the sweet tea his boyfriend used to make, on his porch.

Happy.

“What do you do?” she repeated. “Oh, Jim, it’s the first time you’ve asked that, since your surgery.”

“What is a...a boy...” He thought for a moment, speaking haltingly when he couldn’t find the word. “Friend?”

She got a faraway look in her eyes.

“Said...something...wrong?” Nervous, he pulled his hand away

But she held onto him, gripping his hand, staring him straight in the eye.

“No,” she said firmly. “You said nothing wrong, Jim. You took me by surprise, that’s all. Your questions are coming quicker than the doctor expected them to, which is good.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure what she meant.

“Before you got sick, you were an actor.” She smiled, with a laugh. “Do you know what that is?”

“Uh-huh. Movies.”

“That's right!” She beamed. “You were a talented one, with many, many fans. You still have fans, Jim.”

The idea of being one of those people in a movie intimidated him. He wasn’t sure he would like that. People looking at him, when he was slow.

And fans? Why did she mention fans? Weren’t those machines you plug in? Why did he have so many fans? His home must be too warm. Maybe even hot. He’d rather stay here, in this place, where the temperature was just right.

He sighed, disappointed. “Oh.”

She chuckled. “I know it might sound boring to you now, Jim, but you really loved it. It’s okay that it sounds strange. We all change over time.” Her lashes fluttered as she stole a look through the glass window. “And the other question?”

A man was making laps around the pool, on the other side of the window. A strong man. Jim watched him every day, so he knew the man was strong. How else could he swim from end to end? He liked looking at him, watching his movements in the water. The man hadn't been strong when he started. But he was now.

Maybe he—Jim—will be strong like that someday. When he’s in the water, he usually flops around. Splashes. For fun.

“About boyfriends?” his mother continued.

“Uh-huh.”

“A boyfriend, Jim,” she murmured. “Is a man you care about, more than you would if he was just a friend.”

Like he cared for the man in the water?

He scrunched his face. He probably shouldn't ask that, although he was even more confused than before. He was _embarrassed_ that he didn’t understand.

Boy. Friend. Had she not understood his question? He couldn’t ask her if she didn’t understand. That would be rude, wouldn’t?

He decided to ask, anyway. “But...the word friend. He’s a friend. Means...friend?”

She glanced over at him, her lips curving upward into another soft smile. “It is confusing, you’re right. However, it means something different when you say it with the word boy.”

He glanced down at his pile of cards. “Confusing,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It is. Why do you ask?”

He suddenly smiled, remembering why he’d asked the question in the first place. “I had a boyfriend,” he announced. “We drank iced tea. Together. Boyfriend.”

His mother laughed, but she tried to hide it behind her hand. “You did. And I remember you telling me how wonderful he was.”

Jim’s breath caught. _He_. Who was _he_?

Proud that he’d made her look so happy, he also stated, “I want a boyfriend.”

Her laughter faded. “Oh, Jimmy.”

He could hardly breathe when a look of misery crossed her face.

“Wrong,” he said, yanking his hand away. He knocked over his cards, spilling them haphazardly along the table. But he didn't care. “Wrong. I said...said...wrong...stupid...stupid.” He clenched his eyes shut and rammed his fists into their sockets, crying. “So...stupid.”

Now she’d go away. Maybe even Strong Man too, if he was watching.

“Oh, my precious baby, you’re not stupid,” she cried. “You're learning...relearning. How to walk. Talk. All over again and doing a bang up job, at that. I've never known anyone so brave and determined. And smart.”

Hearing her get up, he dropped his hands. She reached for him, longing in her eyes.

But for what? The Jim she once knew? Or the one she wanted him to be?

For once he was too quick for her. For anyone. He scooted his chair back, out of reach. He winced, the screeching hurting his ears. But it stopped her.

Her expression fell. “You are such a sweet boy, Jim, and...I just…you don’t know, Jim,” she said, voice quaking. “At least not yet. And I can’t say...the doctors...they asked…”

She didn’t finish, but her eyes filled with tears, like his had. He averted his gaze. He wanted to go back to his room. “Go,” he said. “I...will go.”

“You are free to go, Jim. Anywhere here. It is your home for as long as you wish. But before you do, please forgive me,” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Stupid,” he whispered. He stood, he wasn't sure how, his legs shaking.

“No, Jim,” she insisted, her smile wobbly. “Don’t believe that of yourself.”

But he did.

A pair of strong arms slipped around him right as his knees buckled beneath him.

“Kanzi,” Gentle Man whispered from behind him. “I will take you to your room. You are tired. You had a difficult day at therapy, I have been told.”

 _Therapy_. That was what he did. His mother had been wrong. “I do... _therapy_ ,” he stated, frowning at his mother. “Therapy. Not...actor. Therapy.”

“Yes, Jim,” she said. Yet she didn’t look at him. She gazed through the glass once more, at the man in the pool, her eyes drawn to the swimmer as if she were watching a sad scene in a movie, instead. “You’re right. Therapy. Jim, you’re _right_. I was wrong. Therapy. That’s what you do.”

He’d thought he’d feel better, figuring out what he did for himself.

He didn’t. He felt worse.

Before he turned away, Gentle Man helping him, he saw his mother’s tears begin to fall.

 

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“ _Mrs. Kirk. Mr. Pike. I need to speak with you both.”_

_She startled at the voice, though she’d been waiting for what seemed like forever. It had been hours since she’d last seen Jim, looking so vulnerable on the bed before his surgery. Vulnerable and young. Her son, who should have never had cancer in the first place._

_She stood, clinging to Chris—to his hand, to him—as he got to his feet beside her._

_“Win?” Chris whispered, squeezing her hand._

_As if in a daze, she walked hand-in-hand with him to the edge of the room, to where the surgeon stood. She stared at him, waiting._

_And waited some more._

_“It's Jim,” Boyce said finally, his words tainted with a caution that must belong to all doctors._

_“Oh, no,” Winona cried, her hand pressed against her heart._

_“Did the surgery go well?” Chris demanded to know simultaneously. “Is he okay?”_

_“We found the tumor and removed it,” Boyce explained._

_“Oh, thank God,” Winona said, crying with relief into Chris’s shoulder._

_“However,” Boyce continued. “We found another.”_

_“Another?” She couldn't believe what she was hearing. No. It was impossible. “Another what?”_

_He looked at her, his grim expression causing her stomach to painfully twist with unease. “Another tumor. Given what we knew, we felt it was best to remove it, as well. It was small, very small, but Jim seized on the table. There were...more complications.”_

_Winona’s heart lodged in her throat. She could not bear to think of her son suffering more setbacks. “No,” she breathed._

_She didn’t want to hear it. Not if it was bad news. She’d been here before, receiving bad news about George, all those years ago. That should have made her strong. It should have—but it hadn’t. When it came to Jim, and his well-being, she’d thought she could be fearless. A light in this storm, for all of them._

_She had soon found that she wasn’t. He was her baby. Her pride and joy. And not just hers. He was Chris’s, too._

_Chris slipped his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest. “What type of complications? Is he all right?” he asked for them both._

_Boyce shook his head. “We won't know until he wakes up. We have him in an induced coma for now.”_

_Chris’s heart hammered in her ear, as he continued to hold her. “Do you have any idea—”_

_“I do, but it will do you no good to speculate at this time—or worry,” Boyce interjected softly. “He's in good hands. My nurses are taking care of him as if he were their own. I'll let you see him later this afternoon.”_

_Winona looked up at the man who'd been her rock for weeks. Maybe years, if she were to be honest with herself. “Chris?”_

_He took a breath, giving her a small smile that did little to reassure her. “No matter what has happened, we will be there for him. Our son.”_

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Winona met Leonard before he reached the locker room. He was still ruffling his hair dry with a towel, paying no attention to where he was walking.

Leonard was making quicker progress than Jim, naturally. However, his injury from thirteen weeks ago stood out against his pale skin as clear as day on his side. It'd leave a hefty scar. Not only in the physical sense, but emotionally, as well.

They would all have a scar.

Jim’s surgery had been successful, but the surgeons had found another tumor, one that had caused complications. Jim had suffered a seizure on the table.

And now, Jim was not the same. Winona held on to every hope that, someday, she’d get her precious boy back. Not just for her sake. But for Leonard’s, too. That hope helped her start each day with a smile, and end each day knowing her boy had better days ahead.

But her optimism only took care of so much. Leonard was hurting, maybe more than all of them put together. He would not forgive himself for leaving his job, for leaving Jim. He believed, with every fiber of his being, that if he’d stayed, Jim would have told someone—him—his symptoms sooner.

In her opinion, they could not know if that would have helped Jim in the long run. It was pointless to consider ifs and what-ifs, but Leonard didn’t think so.

That man, who still loved her son, even in this state, held that pain close to his chest...needlessly.

“Winona?” Leonard stopped in his tracks right before he ran into her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

She didn't beat around the bush, wanting to check on Jim for herself once he was settled in his room. “You saw him get upset, didn’t you?”

He lowered the towel, and nodded.

“You got out of the pool, for him?”

He sighed, his gaze drifting towards the table at which Jim had been sitting. “I know they don’t want us to talk, not yet, anyway, but I can’t...I just can’t stay away. Being forced to remain apart from him like this, and only see him from afar, is torture.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“The least I can do is make sure he’s okay. I’ll wait to talk to Ben outside of Jim’s room.”

“No,” she blurted. “That’s not enough.”

He looked at her strangely. “Winona, you know as well as I do that the doctors have insisted we keep this distance. Pushing Jim after he was scared of me the first time would compromise hi—”

“I don’t care what the doctors have insisted, Jim’s not scared of you!” she cried. “He's remembering you!”

He inhaled sharply. “What?”

She crossed her arms, suddenly chilled, though it should be Leonard who’s chilled, standing there in his swimming trunks, still wet. “He asked what a boyfriend was. He remembered that he had one, and they drank iced tea. Together.”

Leonard hesitated and brought the towel up to his eyes to wipe them. “He said that?” His voice was so low she had to lean forward to hear him.

“Yes,” she said thickly.

“He really is remembering,” he whispered, pulling the towel away from his face. “I’d hoped…”

“We all have,” she said. “I think things are starting to come back to him. Why else does he come here, night after night, to that same spot, and watch you?”

“He doesn't need to watch me,” Leonard protested. “He could do a million other things.”

“Exactly,” she said softly.

Leonard sighed, running a hand across his face. “It sounds too good to be true. We shouldn't assume we know what's going on in that head of his.”

“He's thinking of you. I know it.”

Her point had to find its mark. If not today, then another day. It wasn't too good to be true, because it was fact. This facility was a home for Jim, and for Leonard, as he used the pool to regain his own strength. It wasn’t a prison, or a hospital, but a place where they believed Jim would heal with his loved ones around him at all times. A safe place for Jim, away from the paparazzi. Away from the mess that Chris was trying desperately to clean up before it got back to Jim.

“Time will tell, Winona.” His shoulders hunched. “What else did he say?”

“He also insisted that he wants...a boyfriend,” she finished quietly.

He froze, his expression caught, perhaps, in a memory, one he shared with Jim. When they’d been close. On a set, or when living life as two very different individuals but making things work between. Because of the love they shared. All those memories, so distant, yet held dear. And new ones, so far away, anchored by the hope that he would come back to them.

She drew a breath. “I know it’s not how we wanted things to happen, but—”

“It’s perfect,” he whispered.

“Leonard?”

“Don’t you see?” he asked, a throaty laugh breaking the heavy feeling of grief uniting them. “I...maybe I was wrong to doubt it. Maybe he is remembering. Because if that’s not Jim, I’ll eat my towel. ‘I want a boyfriend,’” he repeated. “I can just hear him.”

She didn’t try to stop her own peal of laughter. “It is Jim, isn’t it?” She laughed, but tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. She held a fist to her mouth, as if to shut off her emotional response. “He’s always known what he wants.”

Leonard lifted his chin, eyes suddenly hard and sharp, unreasonably directing his anger over the situation at her in an accusation. “He was upset. You haven’t told me why.”

“He asked what he did, and wasn't too happy with my answer.”

He blinked, then sent her a quizzical look. “Oh?”

“He does therapy.” She hesitated. “Not acting.”

Leonard closed his eyes. “Good,” he breathed, but a flash of pain crossed his face. “He’s learning. He’s learning to have his own opinions and share them. That’s a good sign, Winona.”

“He’s like a child in so many ways.”

“We all started in that very place,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Jim is just starting there for a second time. He never did do things the easy way.”

“Don’t give up.” She said that for herself, as much as she had for him.

He opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the vacant chair. “Never.”

 

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_This wasn’t supposed to have happened._

_Leonard could barely sit up, at least not for long, let alone be there for Jim as he relearned how to live. How to eat. How to use a remote. How to walk. How to ask for a drink of water. How to use a cup without spilling it. How to sing the damned alphabet song._

_The things they all took for granted._

_This wasn’t supposed to have happened._

_He detested his injury, the weakness in his side that kept him from being with Jim right from the start, when the younger man had awakened from his coma two weeks ago._

_Jim was not the man they had known, at least not yet. But it didn’t matter to him. In fact, he knew in his heart that he loved Jim more today than he ever had before. That he would carry this love for the rest of their lives._

_He’d stay there at Jim’s new home, recover right alongside Jim._

_But there was just one problem._

_Jim did not remember **him**._

 

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“Do you remember anything else?”

Jim shook his head, and pulled on his other sock, wiggling his toes when he was done. Now he was warm. He hated going to bed cold. He could never fall asleep if he was cold. He wanted to be as warm as possible. It felt like the bed was missing something most nights. Only he couldn’t put a finger on what that something was.

“All right, Jim,” Nurse said softly. “I won’t ask any more questions. I’ll leave that to your doctor, tomorrow.”

 _The psychiatrist_. Jim played with his shirt, the buttons that felt funny against his skin. “Will he be...mad?”

“About what?” she asked kindly.

He placed his hands over his ears. Some of his answers were his secrets. Very important secrets. “N-no—”

“Jim—”

“No,” he cried, a strange sensation rising in his chest.

“We are done,” Gentle Man said firmly.

He couldn't catch his breath. Couldn’t understand...why he was so _stupid_.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Jim,” Nurse soothed, rubbing his back. “I shouldn’t have pressed. No more questions. I promise. I'll be back in the morning.”

Jim crawled into bed with her help, still trembling at his bodyguard’s sharp voice. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Gentle Man nearly shout before.

He decided he didn’t like it.

He squeezed his eyes shut. They’d told him he’d been blind before his surgery. He didn’t remember. His mother had told him he’d been an actor. He didn’t remember that, either.

Gentle Man wouldn’t think he was stupid for asking, would he?

“Ben?” he whispered, after Nurse had left.

“Yes, Kanzi.”

“What is a fan?”

 

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_He approached him cautiously, for Jim reminded him of a wounded animal. One wrong word was all it would take, or one wrong look. Just like it had happened with McCoy. “Do you know me, Jim? Who I am?”_

_Jim continued to shuffle his cards without giving him a second glance. “Uh-huh. You’re my dad.”_

_“That’s right,” Chris said, his relief appearing as tears in the corners of his eyes. So far Jim had remembered Winona, his mother, but no one else._

_He rested his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing it, noticing that Jim’s hair was slowly but surely growing back._

_Jim leaned into him, as if wanting more physical contact. “Wanna play?”_

_“Poker?” he asked, laughing._

_Jim had a silly grin on his face when Chris leaned down and hugged him. “Gin Rummy,” Jim announced. “Ben taught me.”_

_He let go and took a seat across from him at the table. “My favorite game.”_

_Jim looked at him shyly. “Mine, too.”_

_He would never forget it._

_They played for hours._

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Leonard paced the hall outside Jim’s room, his habit since Jim had been released from the hospital and settled into a routine here at his new home.

Everyone but him was allowed to be with Jim. Chris. Winona. Ben. The nurse, Catherine, who Winona and Chris knew from a long time ago and convinced to come out of retirement for Jim’s sake. And most recently, Spock.

He couldn’t deny the resentment that festered every time someone new came along. But now it was just Ben and Catherine. Sometimes Jim was just plain difficult to deal with at the end of a day, and a seasoned yet compassionate nurse like Catherine knew exactly what to do to calm him. Given his outburst near the pool, he wasn’t surprised that they were taking greater care with him tonight.

It seemed like forever, but then Catherine left Jim’s room. It seemed like forever, again, before Ben emerged.

The bodyguard closed the door behind him, quietly. “He is already sleeping, your Kanzi.”

“Can I watch over him?” he humbly asked. “While he sleeps?”

Ben’s face was kind, but he shook his head. “I am sorry, Dr. McCoy. Catherine will not allow it. He has not slept well this week.”

He exhaled a long breath. “Was worth a try.”

“I was told that Dr. Boyce will be here tomorrow to see your Kanzi,” Ben said slowly.

That was unusual. A house visit? “Are you suggesting...that I ask him then?”

Ben’s eyes softened. “Kanzi watches you every day.”

“It doesn’t make a difference if he watches me, though, does it?” he asked, with a dry laugh. “He retreated in fear the second I approached him, three weeks ago.”

It was a day he wanted to forget. Jim. The man he loved. _Afraid_ of him.

“I believe he is ready. He asked me about boy—”

Leonard’s heart stopped. “Boyfriends?” he interrupts.

“How did you know, this question of boyfriends?” Ben asked, his eyes probing too far.

“Winona said he asked her the same thing,” Leonard admitted.

Laughter rumbled from Ben’s chest. “He is thinking of you. I am certain he is _dreaming_ of you, Dr. McCoy, if he’s not too tired to dream tonight.”

Dreaming of him? If only…

It sounded too good to be true.

“Are you sure he’s asleep? He was upset.”

Ben crossed his arms and nodded. “Kanzi was upset, but only because he was confused.”

“Confused?” He frowned. “By what?’

“Fans. He did not understand, after he asked if his house was warm...” Ben’s voice faded as he rubbed his jaw, chuckling.

“What?”

Ben threw his head back in abandon and laughed, the hearty sound echoing down the hallway. “‘Ben, my mother says I have fans. But if I have a warm house, fans can’t be people,’ your Kanzi told me. ‘They are machines.’”

Leonard broke into a chuckle. Jim and these new, childlike ways touched his heart in a way he had never expected.

They were unusual. They were endearing. They were bittersweet.

They would hopefully be replaced by the ways of a man he missed more than anything in the world.

His thoughts heavy, he sobered. Unwilling to leave just yet, he heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall outside Jim’s room. Ben kept vigil by Jim’s door, but made no effort to convince him to leave.

He wouldn’t have budged, anyway. He felt it in his blood. Jim was coming back to them. To _him_. He had to be.

He scrolled through the list of news articles Chris had sent him earlier, to pass the time, and stopped at one headline in particular. He’d read it at least a hundred times today.

And it was no laughing matter.

_Actor Gary Mitchell Pleads Guilty In Plot To Kill_

Son of a bitch.

It was a good thing for Mitchell that he would be looking at a lifetime in jail.

Leonard couldn't touch him there.

 

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_Jim slipped into the pool area after a brief walk outside with his cane, his heart beating wildly in his chest._

_Gentle Man followed several steps behind. “Kanzi, what are you doing?”_

_“Finding,” he whispered._

_“Who?”_

_“Him,” Jim said, looking straight at Strong Man as he exited the locker room._

_Gentle Man sucked in a breath. “Do you remember him?”_

_A faceless figure in his memory murmured in his ear, the words spoken with tenderness. Love._

_All he ever wanted._

_So why did it scare him? Why did **he** —Strong Man—scare him?_

_“Kanzi?”_

_“I don’t know—” Jim froze as Strong Man’s eyes pierced him like an arrow to his heart, and wouldn't let him go. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes, unwanted and painful. He shuffled back. Left foot first, then right, and left again, directly into Gentle Man’s chest. “N-no. Afr-afraid. No!”_

_He turned with a cry. Why did he even come here? Why? He did not know this man! Why was Strong Man looking at him like that? Like he **missed** him?_

_Darkness quickly beckoned, its slender finger crooked and tempting._

_Sensing it would give him a respite from fear, from the stranger—that he’d no longer see those eyes haunting his mind like a ghost—he welcomed it._

_He fell, unconscious, into Ben’s arms._

 

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“Can I meet him?” Jim whispered.

The room grew hushed, as if his question had frightened them all away with his stupidity. Jim wouldn’t be surprised if it had. If none of them believed he wanted to meet Strong Man. He’d been so scared of him, at first.

It was silly, when he sat and really thought about it. Like _him_.

“Meet him?” Dr. Bryant, his psychiatrist, asked gently. “Jim, do you mean Leonard?”

Jim twisted his hands on his lap. _Leonard_. The name sounded important. And smart. “Yes,” he said, unable to stop his throat from shrinking, his voice from sounding little and pathetic.

“Of course,” Dr. Bryant agreed easily. “If you’d like to meet Leonard properly, he can come visit when I’m here.”

“But, where does he-he go?” he asked nervously. “He might not want to come.”

“Oh, believe me, Jim,” Dr. Bryant murmured, glancing over at Chris. “He does.”

“Why?” Jim asked, confused.

“I think you know why, Jim,” Chris said softly.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to go back in time, before these bad things had happened to him. Before he’d asked his mother about boyfriends. Before he'd realized he’d had an entire different life than the one he has now.

“This is a good step,” his dad continued. “I’m proud of you, Jim. I know it’s not easy.”

He had to agree with his dad.

It was far, far from easy.

It was terrifying.

 

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“ _What did I do wrong?” Leonard asked hoarsely, pacing the length of Spock’s office. “They’ve wanted me to be around, be approachable, and the first chance I get, I fucking scare the socks right off of him.”_

_“I feel obliged to inform you, firstly, that his socks were not, as you said, frightened off his body. You did nothing wrong,” Spock said, turning his head to gaze out the window of his office. “Jim is easily triggered—”_

_“By me,” he snapped._

_Spock turned back and narrowed his eyes. “By something so familiar to him that it is unfamiliar,” he murmured._

_“That doesn’t make any sense, Spock.”_

_He inclined his head. “Perhaps it doesn’t now, but it may make sense to you as time goes on and he improves. Do not take his reaction personally.”_

_“Of course I’ll take it personally,” he retorted. “This is Jim!”_

_“And Jim is not the Jim—”_

_“That I once knew. I know, I know,” he grumbled, stopping in his tracks. He breathed deeply, in and out, several times. It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t catch up to the way life kept handing him curveballs._

_“Do not give up.”_

_Did it sound like he was giving up? Did his complaining indicate that he had no hope left that he’d have a future with him?_

_“Jim wouldn’t,” Leonard admitted, the painful truth a difficult pill to swallow. “I know he wouldn't give up, if he were in my shoes. He probably wouldn't complain so much about it, either.” He stopped, suddenly, and stared, wide-eyed, at Spock, the only other friend he had who understood both of them. “What should I do, Spock?”_

_“Be all he remembers, nothing less,” Spock said quietly. “Be all he hopes you are, nothing more.”_

_“You're saying, basically, to be myself?”_

_“Affirmative.”_

_“I don't know if that will be enough,” he admitted. “Not this time.”_

_He might love Jim beyond a shadow of a doubt. But he was no hero._

_**He was no miracle worker.** _

_“You will see that Jim does not require much—from anyone,” Spock countered. “He is a simpler man, one who craves connections with others. That, I have discovered, is his sole desire as he recuperates.”_

_“Connections? With someone like me?” He was doubtful of his own ability to connect with Jim on some more personal level, but at the same time, he knew what Spock said was true. Tactile and personable, Jim thrived on close connections with people. It was one of the things that had made him such a fine actor. “The man who frightened him out of his wits?” he continued sarcastically._

_He bit his tongue before he listed everything else that he'd done wrong, including his abandonment of Jim. If not for that, they might not be here. If not for his selfishness, they might have caught the cancer earl—_

_But Spock merely nodded, as if unfazed by his retort. “Especially you.”_

 

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“I’m Leonard,” Strong Man said, holding out his hand.

Jim glanced at Dr. Bryant. “Go ahead, Jim,” the doctor urged.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and reached a shaking hand out to Leonard, who then breached the distance and enclosed Jim’s hand with his own.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. And that he wasn’t afraid.

_This man was in his dreams._

Leonard squeezed Jim’s hand gently, shaking him out of his stupor.

“J-Jim,” he breathed. “I’m Jim.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” Leonard said easily, with a smile that brightened the room.

His drawl was like honey, making him shiver straight down to his toes. Jim flushed, hoping he hadn’t noticed, and looked away. But not before his eyes had traced the tall, muscular form standing before him.

Everything about him was perfect.

Unlike him. He couldn’t even speak to this man—to anyone—without feeling like he was a fish out of water.

But he decided that anyone who’d loved him enough to watch him from afar as he got better was worth trying harder for. That anyone who was willing to wait for him to remember their life together was worth being uncomfortable for. That anyone who did these things even if Jim would never love him back, was worth getting to know.

He didn’t let go of Leonard’s hand.

Oddly enough, Leonard didn't let go of his.

 

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_The cup tumbled from his hand, his weak grip, falling like a tree in the forest felled by the swing of a powerful ax. The landing of his cup was as loud as that tree would be, falling in the woods. A solid thud. Even if it wasn’t, it might as well be._

_This mess he’d made was everything._

_Represented who he was._

_**Stupid**._

_He stared down at his lap, at the mess he’d made of the first cup he’d actually held on his own, the first drink he’d thought he could take himself. He stared up at Gentle Man. “Why?” he asked._

_“You should not let go of your cup when you bring it to your lips,” Gentle Man said, his lips quirking at the corners._

_Jim blinked. “Oh.”_

_Had he let go?_

_“And you must tip your head back, Kanzi,” Gentle Man explained, mimicking with a tilt of his head, while holding an imaginary cup up to his mouth._

_Jim laughed at the way his pinky stuck out, and covered his mouth with both of his hands when he couldn't stop laughing. Gentle Man looked... **silly**._

_“As you dri—” Gentle Man stopped speaking, now watching him narrowly, instead. “I see you, Jim Kirk. And I hear you laugh at me while you do not try for yourself. Wait until I tell your baba—”_

_“Oh no,” Jim protested, filling with illogical panic. Gentle Man always teased him. “I’ll try.” But when he stared down at his fingers, he realized, again, that he was stupid. Or his fingers were stupid. Why wouldn’t they work for him like they did for Gentle Man? “I can’t.”_

_“You must try again,” Gentle Man said, with a firmer tone than Jim was used to. He picked up the cup and set it on the counter, before retrieving a new one. He filled it just as high and presented it to him, but with a warm smile. “You must try, Kanzi. Always.”_

_“Can’t,” he whispered._

_“Then you will never be allowed to learn to swim. These skills will help you dress for the pool, walk to the pool, and use the pool, Kanzi. Only then will you see what you are truly capable of doing.”_

_Jim licked his lips, wanting to resent Gentle Man. But he couldn't. He was right. And he—Jim—was craving that water. He wanted to learn to swim more than he hated all the things he needed to learn again. More than anything in the world._

_The pool. That’s where **he** was._

_The next time, he didn’t spill a single drop._

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“You’ll watch him at all times,” Winona commanded him.

Leonard fought a smile. “Yes.”

“This is his first time away from home,” she reminded him, though she didn’t have to. “He could get lost.”

He was more than aware that although this was his first date with Jim, it was also the first time Jim had ventured beyond the safety and comfort of these walls.

“Give him this.” She handed him a sleek, new phone. “Chris and I picked it out yesterday.”

Leonard could just imagine the look on Jim’s face when he sees it. “You know how fond he is of the remotes around here. Just think what he’ll do with this.”

She smiled, the flicker of pride unmistakable in her eyes. “Anything he sets his mind to. Just look how far he’s come, in just five months. It has been all him. All Jim.”

“And you,” he emphasized. “I never told Jim this, but I used to have these dreams. Nightmares would be a more fitting description. In them, after I’d left, he’d had no one. Not even...not even you.”

Winona’s eyes flicker with horror. “I would never abandon him.”

He winced. Winona was the most devoted mother he knew. If she had any idea of what he’d experienced in those horrid dreams... “I know you wouldn’t, but that nightmare…”

“Leonard, you can tell me anything,” she said gently. “I think of you as my son. So does Chris.”

“It was one of—” He broke off mid-sentence and looked at her, pleading forgiveness. “The thought of Jim, all alone—without me, without you, without anyone—made me come back.”

 

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_Nyota sat on the edge of the pool, her legs immersed in the water up to her mid-calf. “I’m so glad you stayed, Leo,” she murmured, keeping one eye on Jim as he slowly made his way over to them, Ben holding on to his elbow to guide him. “I can’t imagine how hard it has been for you.”_

_“Don’t read too much into it. I’m just too damn selfish to leave,” he confessed. “That’s all.”_

_She threw him a chiding look. “There’s more to you than that.”_

_“Maybe,” he said._

_She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Maybe there is and you’re just too stubborn to realize what a softie you are.”_

_He looked away before she realized just how right she was. He put up an appearance—a rough, sometimes reluctant one—just to get through the day without feeling miserable for himself and this seemingly hopeless situation._

_Jim needed him and he was staying, dammit. Didn’t matter if Jim couldn’t remember the times they’d kissed, or the dances they’d danced, or the nights they’d spent in each other’s arms._

_All that mattered was that the man approaching him with an awkward gait and lopsided smile, knew he would be there when he woke up—and when he closed his eyes for the night._

_“Leonard,” Jim said, an adorable flush creeping up his neck. “You’re here.”_

_The statement slugged him in the gut, but only for a moment. Although Jim hadn’t meant it in a negative sense, it still reminded him of his past failures. His innumerable past failures. The ones that Jim didn’t even remember._

_“Of course I’m here,” he drawled. “I wouldn’t miss a chance of swimming with you.”_

_“You wouldn't?” Jim repeated, his confusion heartbreaking._

_Leonard sprung to his feet, taking his other arm. “No,” he said softly. He guided him down the steps into the warm water of the pool. “Not for the world.”_

_He slipped in behind Jim and pulled him close, his arms wrapped snugly around his chest. This wasn’t the first time they’d met at the pool. It wasn’t the first time he’d held Jim like this in the water, either._

_Jim’s back stiffened as they moved into deeper water, which he’d expected. He hadn’t regained his swimming skills quite yet. He was just beginning to learn to float, and to keep his balance while standing in the water. But he was getting better every day. “Just relax, Jim,” he whispered in his ear._

_“But—”_

_“I gotcha,” he assured him. “I’m not letting go.”_

_“Okay,” Jim said, his small voice reminding him how vulnerable he really was._

_“I’m not letting go,” he repeated, relieved when Jim’s tension gradually ebbed and he relaxed in his arms, his head pressing back against him. “Nyota’s going to find those pool noodles you like to use. But this time, Jim?”_

_Jim turned his head, glancing up at him with trust in those clear blue eyes. “Yes?”_

_He spontaneously kissed his forehead. “We’re using them for floating—not fighting.”_

_The unprecedented smirk on Jim’s face was priceless._

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It came to him after Leonard paid for their meal and helped Jim put his jacket back on, since he was still having trouble with motor skills.

Leonard reached for his hand, and they quietly walked out of the restaurant without anyone giving them a second glance. Except for Ben, of course, his loyal bodyguard.

Leonard kissed his cheek after they stopped outside the door. Jim shivered, and fumbled with the zipper on his coat.

“Here,” Leonard said quietly. “Allow me.”

As Leonard zipped his jacket for him, he wished for hot tea—and for the night to never end.

He thought he loved this man.

“It’s on the chilly side tonight,” Leonard said, his eyes softening on Jim.

He flushed, imagining that Leonard could read his mind.

Leonard smiled. “Maybe I'll make us some tea when we get home.”

“I'd like that,” he agreed, already warming on the inside.

He couldn't remember when he’d felt so cared for. It was as if...Leonard knew what he was going to say before he said it. And what he was going to do before he actually did it. He was content to follow Leonard’s lead. He also trusted him that going “out” was safe. They’d told him that people—his fans—might recognize him, but that they’d planned everything with his safety in mind. They’d also told him about the actor named Mitchell, but assured him that the threat on his life was no more.

His mother was worried, but Jim had a feeling she’d be concerned for him for the rest of his life. But he wasn’t afraid. Not with Leonard by his side.

Leonard slipped his arm around him as they waited for their car to pull up. “If we leave now, we can catch that movie you wanted to see,” he said huskily, his breath dancing against his cheek.

“No,” he said softly, though it was tempting, Leonard’s voice being as sexy as it was. “I’d rather be with you, Bones.”

“You know we can—” Leonard pulled away and stared at him. “What did you say?”

He laughed. He’d gladly say it again. And again. And again. And— “I said, I’d rather be with yo—”

He never got to finish.

Bones took him firmly by the shoulders and leaned towards him like the world was ending.

His lips locked on his in a passionate, mind-boggling, crushing kiss he would never forget.

 _Ever_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! Thank you for reading - and for commenting, too. I greatly appreciate every review! :)
> 
> I'm planning to write (and post ) a fifth and final part to this series, hopefully in the "near" future. I'm just not sure when that will be. I feel like I'm in a little winter writing slump, thanks to the dreary weather lately. But at least you know more will be coming at some point! I also hope to get back to my larger WIPs later this month. :) I hate being a slow updater - I will offer a million apologies! Meanwhile, thank you so much for your patience!


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